


The Woods Lovely, Dark and Deep

by TashaVick87



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of, extreme violence, season 5 finale fix it fic, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaVick87/pseuds/TashaVick87
Summary: Frankie was real. She was nothing like Janet and all the rest of the club crowd Grace had to admit herself were as dull as a door knob. Vicious, too, that horrid woman, only it would take Grace a good while before the awareness of that hit her, and hit her hard.Right now, as she almost hurtled towards her destination, she vowed to do everything in her power to mend her and Frankie's relationship. She felt like god owed her one, if he was even out there. The jury was still out on that one for Grace, ever since...well, she refused to dwell on ''that''.





	The Woods Lovely, Dark and Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a sort of prequel,(if my math is correct grace is 45 or so when this story starts, roughly, we don't have to be that specific, the writers weren't either) and it runs all the way before and through s1-s5 and just after s5 finale. I feel like it fits, and I also keep feeling like not enough s5 finale fix-it fics exist yet. Because, let's all face it, that ending was rough, to put it mildly. So, as we hope for a better resolution in s6, have a read and let me know what you think :) It is very dark and violent but...I guess that's just where my head is these days...
> 
> Thank you for reading!

 

She adored that beach house, no matter what she may have been yelling to the four winds in public. Loved the feel of sand engulfing her feet after a long day at the office. Enjoyed wrapping Bri and Mal in a huge fluffy towel after their swims, worshiped the gentle teasing she would get from them when she refused to get in the water as she worked on her tan. She even liked it when their two families united on 4th of July or Thanksgiving. No matter how hard she tried to change the outward appearance of her feelings for Sol, Frankie and their boys, she always seemed to end up doing something wrong. In time, she realized her thorns matched or rather complemented Frankie's too much, and gradually, their faux-negativity became a ritual they could work with.

Frankie was real. She was nothing like Janet and all the rest of the club crowd Grace had to admit herself were as dull as a door knob. Vicious, too, that horrid woman, only it would take Grace a good while before the awareness of that hit her, and hit her hard.

Right now, as she almost hurtled towards her destination, she vowed to do everything in her power to mend her and Frankie's relationship. She felt like god owed her one, if he was even out there. The jury was still out on that one for Grace, ever since...well, she refused to dwell on ''that''.

* * *

 

''Frankie, it's to your right! How hard is it to listen to simple instructions?''

Grace watched as the jumble of curls tried in vain to find the covered salad bowl and put it in the fridge messing up Grace's work space even more in the process.

Instead of exploding, like she honestly believed she would, Grace found herself shaking her head fondly. Soon she caught herself and schooled her features into something resembling her regular disapproval.

Task finally semi-accomplished, Frankie turned to the blonde and wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

''Hey lady. Wanna share a smoke?''

Grace snorted derisively.

''I know you're doing that to make me squirm. Just because you smoke it and I don't doesn't mean I'm a prude. You go have all the fun you want, I still need to see the Sol, Robert and the guests off. Thank heavens all the kids are at camp otherwise tonight would have been been an even bigger ordeal than usual.''

Frankie frowned but chose to say nothing, as she knew Grace was having more than her  fair share of troubles with the girls, especially with Brianna who had decided to become a nasty teen within a nine-year-old girl's body at just the very moment her father started travelling for work more often. Frankie adored Bri like she was her own, but she had to admit that, just like Coyote would, Brianna would surely wreak havoc of her own to match his with a fury.

''Okay, Gracie. I said goodbye to Sol earlier, Spaced Mountain, here I come!''

Grace watched her walk towards the patio and out to the beach with gusto and envied the lightness of being which seemed to inhabit every inch of her body.

* * *

 

She couldn't ask. Couldn't say the man's name. And yet, she had to.

''Robert, where's Jonathan?''

Oblivious as ever, Robert stood dumbfounded and she found it hilarious just how much his complete disregard of everything that came out of her mouth could make her irate. But, now was not the time.

''Oh, I think I saw him wander down towards the beach. I think he's had a mouthful tonight, he needs the air to bring him back to his senses...''

As she put the flood of irrelevance which subsequently continued pouring out of her husband on mute in her brain, Grace turned, panicked, towards the glass doors looking out at the beach, trying to make out shapes in the darkening evening.

She heard Robert mutter something about her seeing Jonathan out when he and Sol were gone. Another trip. More nights alone. Another night he left her to deal with the guests his invitations brought to their home. Not that Grace cared at that point. In the entire 25 years of their marriage she hadn't been as indifferent as she was at that moment.

For reasons completely unrelated to her failing marriage, her stomach knotted and all she could do was nod in acquiescence.

''And try to get on with Frankie, Grace. You know she tries, maybe you could give it a go, too,hm?''

If she wasn't as petrified as she was she may have had a retort for that ''brilliant'' lawyer brain of his. Like: _read the room Robert. Why is your ever-volatile wife suddenly mute and unmoving_? She could hear her heart thudding in her chest, and it felt like it was going to cave her rib-cage in.

Robert whizzed by her without so much as a by-your-leave, grabbing his carry-on and left to join Sol who was already waiting in the car. As the door shut behind him the sound spurred Grace into action.

She could only describe it as an over-ride of sorts. Running to her purse on the marble island, she carefully unzipped the hidden side pouch she had had custom-sewn into each of her purses.

* * *

 

The speed with which the bright red liquid marooned on skin was lightning in quality, thought Grace numbly as she turned her palms this way and that, almost mesmerized by the rivulets making their way down her arms now, marking her crimson. The olfactory part of her had been cooperative and merciful enough up to that point, but she knew deep down that the adrenaline would dissipate pretty soon, too quickly for her liking and the smell would hit her.

Her ears buzzing, she felt her body land on the sand, on autopilot, feeling not much else but the liquid, the decision, the throbbing need to protect, keep safe, cocoon. Had she done it? Was she successful? Her right cheek bone felt odd, and she thought she could feel a bit of pain begin to seep through the veil of complete numbness, but she still hadn’t gathered enough wits to care.

She welcomed the dark.

* * *

 

Frankie liked to think that she wasn’t easily surprised or caught off guard. Her little foray to the beach to get zoned out was a gimmick she sold Grace when she realized she’d need a breather after that horrible dinner party and all the rest of the associates from their husbands' law firm. The joint remained in her hand, unlit, purely for the sake of a front, should Grace decide to join her. Frankie wasn’t holding her breath, though.

It’s not that Frankie resented Sol’s line of work; it’s just that she felt like her sweet spouse’s nature was more attuned to the things she liked that he also privately took a fancy to, too much to keep working in a company where leaches came to breed. She was past the courtesy of calling them sharks, when with a few exceptions the lot of them were nothing more than parasites. Even years down the line, after Budd had passed his bar, her stand would remain unchanged.

And that king of the clowns, the ultimate mouth-breather, the ever vacant-eyed Jonathan Clusky ruled the roost. Frankie had noticed how he’d taken every opportunity to brush up against anything female that moved and had steered well clear of him as she ’’mingled’’ as per Sol’s painful instructions. Somehow, for some reason, the other hostess of the beach party was the only woman Jonathan seemed to avoid in a wide circle.

Thinking nothing much of it at the time, other than that maybe Grace was particularly vicious to him, during one of her bouts of accidental withdrawal (which Frankie felt occurred any time she hadn’t had a drink in longer than thirty minutes), Frankie managed to hobble her way through the duration of the soiree.

The sea breeze was a godsend, and she was almost contemplating lighting the joint, but then she thought better of it, realizing Grace may need help with the clean-up. Odds were she wouldn’t much accept any help Frankie had to offer, but she knew the blonde would at least, on some level, respect the gesture, if the fond, insecure chuckle she tried to hide from Frankie earlier was anything to go by.

''Frankie! Fancy seeing you here, you little minx! What’s that you got there? Having a little party of your own? Now that’s what I call being a bad hostess!''

She almost let her true feelings show but she managed to rein them in as she twirled on her heels, giving Johny boy a sour smile.

''What are you doing here, I thought Sol and Robert were going to give you a ride home on their way to the airport?''

She could see his burly figure lumbering towards her in the sand on slightly uneven feet. Knowing he’d reek of booze, she steeled her senses and firmed her false smile. Her cheeks almost hurt with the effort.

''Oh I just figured I'd come to my senses a little first and then call a cab, no use letting the ol' ball and chain know I was not three but thirty sheets to the wind this evening.''

Ignoring his insipid joke, Frankie turned away and kept walking. She could hear him follow. Looking back, she had no idea how she didn't see it coming.

''Hey, how's about we share that joint? It's gotta be a bummer getting high on your own.''

''I'm actually a rather solitary puffer, Jonathan. But here, as one of the hostesses, I'll be glad to give you this one all to yourself. I have to help Grace clean up, anyway. ''

The hand she was holding the joint with outstretched, she was completely blindsided by his tree-trunk of a bicep coming towards it.

No amount of self-help classes could have prepared her for the weight of his palm resting on her mouth, the feel of the night sand grains digging into her back and his unbelievably heavy torso pinning her lungs down so hard she thought she would suffocate.

Even if her psyche had let her, she doubted very much she'd be able to do anything to get herself out of the situation.

And then, suddenly, the fear skyrocketed enough to make her shutdown completely as she felt  his hand go up her skirt and spread her legs in a way she knew should hurt, but given the fact her synapses had completely started disobeying her, the sensations of pain were probably misdirected for the moment.

She was detached as he grunted and fought her knees apart, ever so numb as he came closer to his goal. But when it was all milliseconds from being irreversible, an unexpected howl of pain startled her and rebooted her senses.

He was off her now and clutching his side. She looked wildly about, only to see a Grace like she'd never seen her before. Blonde hair loose from her complicated up-do of the evening, breathing erratically, with a shiny, long dagger in her hand, backing away from Jonathan, whom, Frankie had now realized, she was able to stab in the shoulder.

''You bitch! You think you're gonna get away with this?''

Frankie saw him lunge and his closed fist caught one of Grace's cheekbones.

She jumped off the sand too, fully intent on helping the blonde subdue him, but Grace was smaller, quicker and wittier than the heavy bear of a man with two gallons of vodka in him. He'd messed with the wrong woman.

''Oh, I most definitely do think that.''

It was a matter of seconds, nothing more. Her delicate right hand clutching the dagger, blade downwards, it took a singular slicing motion and the seemingly unbeatable windmill was felled. The harsh spray of blood caught Grace's pale-blue lace blouse and painted her a martyr, a fighter, a survivor.

Frankie ignored his fallen body as she stumbled over to what she could tell was an already catatonic Grace.

And as the woman collapsed in her arms, Frankie didn't allow herself to crumble. Together, Grace and her would do that later on. Now was the time for problem solving.

* * *

 

The hot coffee mug in her hands rapidly warmed her, slowly realizing she was sitting on the edge of the wooden slats part of the patio of the beach house.

She set the mug down and turned to enter the house.

''Grace, honey, you can't go in. Look at me.''

Frankie. What was Frankie doing there? Wasn't she supposed to be off somewhere getting high?

Oh, and then it hit her. Hit her so hard she was unable to process. She felt her body lurch sideways and saw her vodka-martinis and the cofee in reverse, curdling in the cool sand.

A soothing hand rubbed circles onto her back and she tried to focus on the cadence of the familiar voice.

''That’s okay, let it all out.''

''Frankie...I...''

As she straightened, she turned to the woman, her eyes scanning the body seated comfortingly next to her.

''Did he...was I on time?''

The timid, scared way in which she asked the question made Frankie want to resurrect the vile excuse of a man just so she could let both of them have a go with that dagger again, over and over. Instead of letting the anger show, she scooted closer, gently tucking a strand of golden hair away from Grace's face. She made a valiant effort not to concentrate on the ugly purpling bruise on the tender cheekbone.

''No, he didn't. You saved me.''

And then, of all things Frankie had expected, Grace snorted. Derision, self-loathing and then some came to rest on her beautiful face.

''Grace?''

Giving no explanation as to her mood, Grace got up and made to saunter back towards the beach house.

''I need you to come back here.''

For some unknown reason, the blonde felt like it was nice having someone tell her what to do. And it was even nicer that that someone was Frankie. It was such a shift from their usual dynamics, that Grace enjoyed this new sensation, rolled it around in her mind, looking at all of its facets, concluding she liked it.

''Listen to me. I need you to take your clothes off.''

Grace whipped her head round so fast Frankie thought her slender, willowy neck had snapped. She decided to wait the woman out until she realized the reasoning for the request.

''But...Frankie...I...the police...''

''No police.''

''It was self-defense.''

''I know it. And you know it. But would the rest of this disgustingly patriarchal society deem us worthy enough to be protected, especially with the image of two of us standing over his dead body? He may have given you a shiner, something which makes my blood boil beyond reason, but other than that there is not a scratch on us. I am not willing to sacrifice your life because his front in society was so good no one would believe he tried to...well..''

Grace then realized Frankie was right. There was no way they could call the police. Even if everyone believed them, and that was a big ''if'', what would the scandal mean for Robert and Sol's law firm? The children?

She swallowed against a scratchy throat and looked up at Frankie's supportive, unwavering face.

''We're in this together, Grace Elizabeth Hansen.''

And oh, she had no clue those were the exact words she needed to hear. Taking Frankie's hand, they turned to look at their attacker's lifeless body some hundred feet away.

''Well, there's no time like the present.''

And just like that, her CEO brain kicked into high gear.

* * *

 

Grace's clothes disposed of, and after a quick but very thorough bath, the two women emerged onto the beach to begin their task.

''I never thought I'd say this, but boy am I glad we're boujie enough to have this slice of beach to ourselves.'', Frankie mirthlessly mused as she walked ahead, and Grace trudged behind her in the sand, her own mind on how exactly the two of them were going to move that mountain of a man and where to.

Until the answer became begrudgingly clear. Grace sighed, fighting off another bout of nausea.

''We're gonna have to...have him set sail, aren't we? I mean, there's no other choice, we can't haul him back anywhere else and burying him in the sand isn't an option either, we wouldn't have the time. I don't think the rapidly approaching daylight would be our best friend.

Frankie held her breath.

''True. Okay then. The sea it is, though a naval burial sounds way nicer than this scumbag ever deserved.''

* * *

 

''Grace?''

How was it that the voice she used to loathe hearing mere days prior (well, _loathe_ may be a strong word, but the annoyance was always there) was now the only thing that was able to shake her from a stupor?

It had been seven days since they'd reluctantly parted ways and set their stories straight, vowing to keep everything as regular as ever, to avoid any possible suspicion. Robert and Sol's two week trip got extended to a month, and if Grace was being honest, she was grateful. Between the kids, Say Grace, and of course, the nightmares not even Xanax could soothe she was a mess, and she didn't think she'd be able to cater to Robert on top of it all.

Which is why,  the girls at a slumber party and the house settled for the night, she found herself on the phone to Frankie, gasping for breath due to a panic attack so severe it left her dizzy and panting, seated on the floor of her bathroom.

''Grace, listen to me. Keep breathing, honey. I'll be right there. I will be with you in five minutes.''

But Grace wasn't strong enough and only had the strength in her to utter a single ''Hurry'' before she collapsed fully onto the cold tiles.

* * *

 

''I never told you, about how I knew...''

Frankie busied herself with tucking Grace’s covers more firmly around her tiny body, letting the woman settle her thoughts. Grace was so thankful she could cry with joy.

''Well, I...you must assume by now that what he tried to do to you he managed quite successfully to do to me?''

It was said carelessly, or at least that's what Grace was aiming for, but Frankie knew the amount of strength it must have taken for her to say the words.

One look at Grace and she knew no response was needed, her eyes were glazed over, her heart and soul going back in time, with no reprieve. She needed Frankie just to listen.

* * *

 

A mistake. Her mistake. Her fault for sending out desperate lonely housewife signals when she should have been have committed fully to her business and tending to her family’s needs. That’s what she was conditioned to believe, anyway. And yet, three years down the line, ever since it happened…she has spent every waking moment with images and sounds of it like a horror movie montage in the back of her mind, anger, fear and sadness bubbling and merging, roaring to be released.

Slicing the crust off the girl’s sandwiches. _Knock_. Getting the laundry in the dryer. _‘‘How was your day, m’lady?’’_ Picking up Bud and Coyote from soccer practice because Sol and Frankie were stuck in traffic. _‘‘No! Please, stop!!!’’_

She thought the nightmares would never end. But then her good pals martini and Xanax had come in real handy, once she upped the ante, that is.

No dreams of any kind. She’d never felt more like a subhuman in her life.

* * *

 

''It hurt so much.''

A crack in the veneer, Frankie saw it and didn't hurry to put Grace back together. Catharsis was needed and she would never stand in the way of it.

''He's…Well, _was_...big in every sense of the word. I thought I was going to die.''

Frankie's stomach turned and she jumped off the bed only to start pacing back and forth, doing her deep breathing exercises.

''Frankie?''

Alarmed, Grace made to get up until Frankie walked back swiftly, reassuring her.

''That's okay, honey, I'm right here. I'm just trying to stop myself from swimming out there, retrieving that demon's corpse and pulverizing him into ashes.''

Out of the corner of her eye, Frankie could see Grace's cold demeanor slowly build itself back up, her jaw straightening almost painfully.

''Well. What's done is done. At least now I'm sure he'll never be able to hurt anyone again. I shouldn’t have allowed him to get as far as he did with you, Frankie I am so sorry, if I was even a second late he-''

''Grace. Stop it. You are not that man's keeper, nor are you mine or anyone else's. Karma is a thing and you only helped set it in motion. In this entire situation I am only worried about you. How have you been sleeping?''

In response, Grace pulled out her bedside drawer, and Frankie was taken aback by the multitude of pill bottles inhabiting it.

''You can't do that anymore, it’s not healthy...at least not to that extent.''

Grace sighed.

''I know. But, if I don't he is everywhere...the past year, it was slowly getting better. Then last week happened...I can't breathe, Frankie. I don't eat. It's a good thing the girls have so many extracurricular activities, I don't think I'd be able to hide the amount of messed up I am. I go to the office, I do what needs to be done and nothing that happens can touch me while I'm there, but soon as I leave, soon as I walk through that front door, it's like...it's like the silence triples and all of a sudden it's just me and him, in my living room, and I'm suffocating and pleading with God for help or death, whichever of the two he saw fit to give me. Turns out, I was suited for neither.''

Frankie grabbed hold of Grace’s trembling hands and held on for dear life.

''Call me. Any time you feel like the only answer is a pill, or something even worse, you call me. I don't give a flying rat's ass if it's three in the morning, you call me. The pills can still be a crutch, but make sure they're a smaller one. Okay? Can we start there?''

Grace sniffled and wiped her cheeks, completely caught unawares by the fact she had been crying steadfastly without even noticing it.

''I can't promise to be too successful at it, but I can try.''

''There’s no ** _I_** here anymore. **_We_**. And since I know you and know that you’d be too averse to therapy, or even the mention of it, I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. Because I will always listen, Grace. You need to know that. You didn’t deserve any of this, sweetheart. And you should never feel like the supposed lack of help from some celestial entity is a sign of any kind of diminished worth. Because you, Grace Hanson, are a golden woman. Possibly the only golden woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet.''

Grace didn't quite know to make of the term ''golden woman'' but she certainly knew she liked both it and the way Frankie’s deep voice wrapped around the syllables, almost as if the solace was physically wrapping itself around her, too.

She slipped into a molasses-like slumber, so happy to be holding Frankie's hand.

* * *

 

The following week, a small box was delivered to her office at Say Grace.

''Gregory, what's this?'', she turned to her assistant.

''Oh, it came this morning, no note or anything. Figured it was from Robert. Knew you'd like the cheering up, him being away for so long''

She nodded and smiled. Her cheeks were really starting to ache.

She knew it wasn't Robert. He never remembered to send anything, and his travel gifts were always practical rather than sentimental. Also, being away from him wasn't exactly what was keeping her down. Not that it ever did, she thought, morose. How is it possible that the month-long absences of the man she vowed to spend her life with made her feel absolutely nothing? Why was it that unwrapping what was clearly a gift from a stranger was making her heart beat three times the normal speed?

And then, the blue-purplish wrapping paper finally disposed of, she caught sight of her absolute favorite perfume. She had only discovered it the year prior, and knew she would have it as her fragrance for as long as Estee Lauder made the scent.

She placed the familiar shape of _''Beautiful''_ on the desk where it caught the light in such a way that made Grace's heart clench with joy. She hadn't felt this way in such a long time. She didn't know how she knew it was Frankie, she just did.

* * *

 

''You didn't have to, Frankie.''

''I know.''

''It...you have no idea...''

''Grace? We okay? Am I getting in the car and driving over?''

Grace was set on answering in the negative but somehow let Frankie's question hang in the air. Because yes, she wanted the woman near. Frankie was the only thing to make her feel secure in the past few weeks. Like she wasn't going to be swallowed up by her own desperate anger and child-like night terrors.

''I...''

''It's okay, I can be there in ten. The boys are getting ready for a sleepover with the neighbors.''

''Mallory and Brianna are here, but they're closed of in Brianna's room, these days that’s all they seem to do, whenever they're here.''

Frankie could hear the dark notes of self-deprecation in Grace's voice.

''Grace,don't worry, that kind of behavior is so normal. You think I don't get my fair share of moody with Bud and especially Coyote?''

Grace let the reassurance wash over her and settled for the moment.

''You...so you'll come over?'', she dared ask, voice suddenly as shy as it had ever been in her 45 years, heartbeat thrumming in her throat.

''Be there soon''

''Okay. And Frankie...thank you.''

* * *

 

There had to be a point in which their tentative link would be broken. It came in the form of Robert letting her know that Sol was considering taking a year-long sabbatical from their law-firm to take up a position in Rome.

Grace had meandered the house numbly after that phone call –after showing nothing but polite support for the Bergstein family’s latest plans, of course – and ended up collapsing on her bed, eyes glued to her medicine drawer.

It would have been the work of but a twist of a child-proof cap, and all would become so, so easy.

Her fingers absentmindedly caressed her abdomen, stumbling across the scar there with each stroke. The one, now almost four-year-old physical memory she had of what had happened between her and the man whose life she ended. She was even somewhat morbidly proud of having it. She used to tell herself – you’re stronger for this Grace Elizabeth. If there is one thing you are not, it is a weakling.

Well, she sure felt like one as she contemplated downing a handful the sleeping pills. It was a full moon, and the unbearably clear night had invaded her dungeon-like bedroom. And then she caught sight of that most perfect, thoughtful gift she’d received from Frankie, displayed proudly on her dresser, next to a variety of others, equally treasured. A mother-of-pearl hair brush, a silver necklace with an amethyst pendant, a sun-shaped hand mirror. All things that screamed Frankie and yet were of perfect use and fitted in seamlessly with who Grace was. They were items Frankie knew Grace would be able could use instead of words to draw her back from that precipice, because each of them reminded her of how Frankie was always there for her. It was as simple as that.

Her hand, the one inching closer to the relief she so desperately yearned for, pulled back as if burned and she swallowed against a dry throat and felt her eyes burn with unshed tears.

_''Let go, Grace. Let go, you know it will help.’’_

She could hear Frankie’s voice soothing her worries away, even if it was just reminiscence.

Even though nothing was settled and the Bergsteins' move from the US to Italy wasn't a thing set in stone, it opened up a whole world of possibilities Grace hadn't let herself imagine.

And in that split second right before the blessed relief of tears lulled her to sleep, she decided to stop shying away from the ''why''.

* * *

 

The cold, hard space within Grace Hanson was always a closely guarded secret. Sure, she was aware most everyone thought her closed-off and rude, socialite to the max, businesswoman supreme and distant mother, but none of those people knew the exact amount of indifferent she could be. It hadn't scared her before, but the fear was there now, when the edges of her inner ice-pit had begun melting, the floods threatening to devour her.

Before, for instance, if she felt nothing for the man she was marrying, if she was crudely thrown into a marriage that convention says a good woman is never to leave unless she wants to be an outcast, she'd decidedly easily shrug off what she should be feeling like it was no more than water off a duck's back. If her child cried, and she didn't know how to deal with it, she would quickly and expertly shut down that feeling of inadequacy right up, the jagged wasteland swallowing it neatly.

But now, after the connection she established with someone who was possibly one of the most comforting people on the planet...oh, how she craves the numbness. Because now, her daughters' every word awakens the dormant _mother-she-should-have-been_ , the insolent entrepreneur who had left them to fend for themselves, without a way to fix it. Her soul burns for the shrill **_''NO!''_** she should have given Robert when he'd proposed, because nothing would beat the freedom she would have had then, not even the giant diamond engagement ring, shiny enough to blind everyone and shut their mouths.

But then again, even if the thaw was imminent and scary, she couldn't bring herself to regret her children. Even though she felt like she was walking with crutches along her path of motherhood, the love she felt for them, though hardened by the icy veil it resided next to in Grace's soul, was a thing of beauty.

* * *

 

Frankie sat next to her on the patio, the two of them watching Mallory and Coyote splashing about in the pool. Sol and Robert were still at the office, and would be joining them the next day.

''I'm okay.''

Frankie nodded, not making eye contact.

''It's just...this is the first time back here since...''

''I-...Frankie don't get this the wrong way, but I just really need the peace and quiet right now. I promise, I'm okay, I just,...don't have it in me to talk.''

Frankie nodded, understanding as always.

''Okay then. I'm going to jump in the pool with the kiddies, if the mood strikes you, you can judge our cannonball moves.''

''Frankie, I get any water on this dress, you are a goner!''

Frankie's infectious laugh chimed melodiously in the air and Grace's face broke into a beaming smile. She could make it through another day.

* * *

 

''There is something I needed to talk to you about, I was just waiting for a time I could get you in private.''

Grace's heartbeat tripled as she nodded and motioned for the living room. They settled on the couch, Grace letting the sea breeze and the sounds of the waves soothe before Frankie told her whatever grave thing she had to tell her. Because judging by the look on her face, it wasn't going to be a happy conversation.

''Sol told me Jonathan's wife filed for divorce today.''

Grace had expected anything but that topic. She believed it had become an unspoken agreement between them never to mention that man again. Of course, there was a part of her that knew that it was a design set on failing, since someone was bound to ask where he was, even with the assumption everyone had made that he had left his wife and was now vacationing in the Keys with a girl three decades his junior. Versions of that theory abounded within the firm.

''Sol told me Angela called and asked for legal advice. Apparently, everyone still thinks he's gonna pop up one of these days'', Frankie continued.

''Oh, well...considering what actually happened to him, ''popping up'' wouldn't be too farfetched.''

Grace regretted the words as soon as she said them, black humor wasn't her thing, and she worried she had upset Frankie, but instead, she was met with peals of laughter, though muted for the sake of the children who were already in bed.

Grace smiled and relaxed into the cushions.

''They're going to come and look for him eventually, though, aren't they? And come to the conclusion that this was where he was last seen by most people?''

Frankie nodded. The fact that Grace saw no hint of worry on her face soothed her to no end.

''Listen,the dagger is long destroyed, as are your clothes and his. That man is so far from here and from our lives that just as soon this settles, we'll have no business thinking about him ever again.''

Grace nodded, both women knowing this was a big fat lie. They would think of Jonathan Clusky every minute of every day for the rest of their lives. He'll be the backdrop for all events, happy or sad, and Grace was slowly letting herself get used to it. She did have four years of prep through the first ordeal the man put her through, why should his death be any different, she wondered pointlessly.

Then Frankie's whole body went limp, face buried in her palms,  and Grace turned sideways on the couch to face her, gently pulling away Frankie’s hands from her eyes.

''Frankie?''

Frankie swallowed hard, stare still riveted to the ground.

''We're moving.''

Grace _knew_ it was coming. Knew it, even though it wasn't a done deal. And yet, she couldn't help from feeling like the aforementioned dagger was perched in her gut. She could feel her chin shuddering, the tremor in her hands overpowering her whole body. She tried to control it by clutching at the cushions harder, but it was no use. Frankie was already holding her, Grace's entire body melting into the comfort she knew she would soon have to relinquish.

''It's just a year, Grace. One year, and then we'll be back.''

Grace's words left her. All she could do was burrow further into Frankie's arms, her own going round the woman's waist.

She let the tears come, soaking the lavender scented fabric of the flowy magenta silk dress she picked out for Frankie during her first and only trip to a thrift store. Seeing it in the window made her breath catch and she knew the brunette would love it.

''Talk to me, please Grace.''

''There's nothing to talk about, Frankie. Just...let me stay like this for a while. Just a little while. And then I'll be okay.''

And then she'll _have_ to be okay. She stopped that bit of herself that had started delving deeper into her connection with the woman that was leaving. The ice had started crystallizing rapidly, back with a vengeance. And before she could let it take complete hold, she held on tighter, lifting her head to fit it so perfectly into the crook of Frankie's neck.

* * *

 

Grace hadn’t had the strength to go to the airport to see them off. As an unusually sullen Robert packed the girls into the car, she stayed back, making up an important meeting at _Say Grace_ she had to attend. She did in fact drive to the office, only to barricade herself at her desk, a martini in one hand and her fingers around her Montblanc, poised to pour out her feelings into the jade-colored journal (both the idea and the journal a gift from Frankie), until she realized what she was doing and sent the heavy notebook flying across the room. She didn’t let the dissonant crash of the glass showcase deter her inflow of alcohol. Instead she downed her drink and side-stepped the debris, walking numbly to the elevators, heading for the roof.

* * *

 

What did it say about her that she felt nothing when she looked at the view from the building she’d managed to grow her business in, she thought to herself. Her strong, successful, completely self-made business. She felt like, for a semblance of normalcy – even though that was a term she hadn’t yet defined thoroughly for herself – she would give it all up. Everything in her life but her children was up for grabs. Just one normal day, a sane day, an untainted twenty four hours of life with no emotional hold-up or hindrance, where she knew how to be the good mother she most certainly wasn’t now. A functioning human being, a real woman. She felt like nothing more than a few sharp shards of each of those notions were taken and stuffed without regard or mercy into a sagging rag-doll to produce one highly distant, vain, left-completely-unsculpted Grace Hanson nee Roberts.

And just as she decided to turn back and head home, she looked at her watch. 3:45 PM. The exact minute Frankie’s flight to Rome was taking off. She held back a growl of pain as she shook the thoughts away. The ice wall was nearly rebuilt.

* * *

 

In that one year, Grace had tried to be better at pacing through life, mostly failing, but with brief, shiny moments of ‘’getting it right’’. Like when she managed to pull off the perfect mother-daughter day with Brianna at the roller rink, falling on her ass only once but realizing she would have done it a million times more if that meant that she would get to see her child laugh as gleefully as she did that day. She’d reconnected with Robert, who seemed to warm up to her efforts. Their marriage was not perfect, or even good, but that was okay since her heart was guarded behind that wall she nurtured daily, so the day-to-day functioning worked well with his now amped tenderness. Or rather, as close to tenderness both of them could ever get for each other.

And all of a sudden it was time for the Bergsteins to return.

Grace had become the old Grace again, the only way she knew how to protect herself from the possibility of losing Frankie again. And now, she refused to think of the why. The same ''why'' she had once considered ready to be cracked open. No. The dangers outweighed the highly unlikely positives.

So, she was distant. Their connection to the other family, her link to Frankie returned to what it was before. And the fact that she could tell that Frankie knew exactly what she was doing broke Grace, because she recognized in her the woman she had come to need. She would never stop being the person Grace needed. So, Grace had to pretend, otherwise the little bit of sanity she had constructed for herself would evaporate into thin air. That year of 1983 was nothing like its predecessor in all respects and Grace refused to think of how miserable that made her, despite the Jonathan Clusky background of it all.

* * *

 

_**2015** _

She figured the universe would pull a fast one on her. But this was beyond wild. There they were, the three of them, her Frankie and the beach house, the confluence of their lives, once upon a time.

Status quo had been her best friend for ages, she figured, it would help this time too.

The binds that tied them couldn't be held back from progressing forever, and over the following six years or so, they had become all to each other, each refusing to name their bond, living instead in limbo of boyfriends, feuds with their children and starting a business.

Grace pushed aside the issue of never mentioning her assault, ''that'' night and the dreams of shiny, blood-smeared daggers and Estee Lauder-scented rain and Frankie let her, if it meant that was her way of dealing with things.

So, if Frankie noticed the fact that Grace had stopped wearing and purchasing the perfume, she hadn't let on.

* * *

 

_**2019** _

And now, here they were. Next to each other, Grace's confession of her marriage to Nick like the final coffin in anything else they could be to each other.

Frankie slid onto the sand, completely tuning Grace's words out.

Minutes passed, maybe even hours, and the two women stayed there, not together, and not quite apart, two soulmates, each tethered to different things. Grace to Nick, who was imprisonment incarnate, even though it had taken the pain in Frankie's eyes for her to understand this fact. And Frankie, bound to the ache in her chest, a heart cracked open, after only a short while of being healed from previous losses.

''Grace...''

The blonde's head snapped up at the unexpected and so very welcome sound. She dared not even reply for fear of Frankie clamming up again. She simply nodded to show she was listening, tears framing her face.

''Do you realize where we are?''

Grace's brow furrowed with confusion at the unexpected segue and racked her brain for the answer.

And when it hit her she scrambled off the sand so fast she figured she could have possibly messed up her knee again. The pain in her chest was lacerating, but not worrisome. Panic attack rather than heart attack, the functional part of her brain supplied.

Each time she blinked she was there again. Blood, sticky and unyielding on her skin, the night air crisp and cold in her throat, the pain in her cheek.

Frankie was by her side immediately, just like she had been that night, her strong, unwavering arms around Grace, grounding her.

''God...I'm so sorry...I never should have...I'm so stupid.''

Grace knew Frankie had no intention to cause this flashback, especially since they both knew the reason for avoiding this specific part of their beach ever since the night it happened. Grace guessed it was pure coincidence that they had met halfway at that point precisely.

Which didn't stop the fear and the trauma returning to visit like old, embittered friends.

She clutched at Frankie frantically, trying to imagine being consoled by anyone else. It didn't work. Not once did Nick's words of comfort and care produce the effect Frankie had.

''Frankie...Frankie...Frankie...''

In between labored breaths, Grace tried to express an important train of thought, eyes seeking out the comfort of the familiarity in Frankie's gaze.

''I'm sorry.''

''I know you are, Grace. I know, honey.'' Frankie spoke, her voice utterly devastated.

''No, please, let me talk, because I don't think you understand.''

And then, there it was. The moment of truth. The _''why''_. Cracked open after decades of walls, avoidance and subterfuge.

''Ever since that party, you have been the primary reason I made it through it all. Because don't think for one second that without you I wouldn't have slit my wrists in a year or so down the line. Hell, that very night I was so close. So close, Frankie. All the horridness of it aside, that night gave me the one good, true thing in my life, other than my girls.''

Her words caught in her throat and the heartbeat was almost chewable by that point. She barreled past the feeling of helplessness, quashed it like a bug.

Frankie was now openly crying, looking away to the horizon, to where they once watched the water take the bane of Grace's existence.

''I don't just need you. I want you. I have always wanted you so much it hurt. And...I guess what I'm trying to say...''

She struggled a little with it but in the end she managed to yank off her ill-fated wedding ring and hurl it into the waves.

_''Fuck him.''_

Frankie remained silent, looking away.

''Frankie...please...say something?''

Frankie didn't. Instead, she took Grace's hand, bringing it to her lips, kissing the back of it with such tenderness Grace's knees completely gave way and she landed fully on the sand. She felt Frankie move a lock of hair from her forehead,just like she did all those years ago.

''Finally.'', she breathed, before leaning into Grace, their lips meeting for the first time. It was breathtaking and it took all of Grace's will power not to faint. It was home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
